


words like knives and swords and weapons

by beepbeepliv



Category: IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Good Sibling Jonathan Byers, I love billy and ur all lucky I didn't shove him in more like I wanted to, I'll update these chapterly assuming I don't lose my mind, Multi, Oblivious Steve Harrington, Will Byers Gets a Break, Will Byers Needs a Hug, he deserve so much, mike wheeler being mike wheeler, my shitty attempt at 5+1 anyway, so much unrequited lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24295510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbeepliv/pseuds/beepbeepliv
Summary: Will had always been too smart for his own good, but even he didn’t see the path he was going down until it was too late.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Other(s), Dustin Henderson/Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler (One-sided), Will Byers/Richie Tozier (one-sided), Will Byers/Troy Walsh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. Mike Wheeler

**Author's Note:**

> could be alternatively titled ‘the six men who tried to save Will’ or ‘the five men who helped Will and the one who helped him help himself’. I just really wanted to write about Will discovering self love bc he deserves it dammit  
> Also, I hate that I wrote this in present tense. It fits the fic but urgh ew.  
> Also Also thanks to Eddie, Hazel and Lily for betaing for me. Like my work is usually abysmal but this was especially a mess before they had a look, and now it’s a legible mess, yay!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike’s an idiot but Will’s a liar

“So… you’re… gay?”

Will nods.

“…like… you date boys?”

He nods again, slower this time. As if the slowed motion will push its way into Mike’s head and fill the emptiness with the flurry of emotions trapped inside of Will.

It doesn’t. Mike’s questions persist.

“…and out of every boy you know… you’re dating… Troy!?”

Will kicks his feet against the ground in lieu of an answer and instantly feels bad for scuffing his nice shoes. His mother had given them to him last Christmas. She’d had to work three extra shifts a week for the two months leading up to it, but she’d smiled so hard when Will opened the box that he pretended not to notice the bags under her eyes.

“He’s nice to me” Will says, when he realises the silence has stretched on too long, and for a minute, he almost believes himself.

Mike sighs.

“The same Troy that bullied us all throughout high school?”

“He was going through some stuff,” Will protests weakly.

“The Troy that coined you Zombie Boy; a name that followed you around for 3 years?”

“He’s apologised for that, Mike!”

“The Troy that—"

“Yes! That Troy, Mike, He— He’s different now…” Will interrupts, feeling his skin crawl and his face heat up in anger, unable to listen a moment longer lest he explode into literal flames. He tells himself it’s not because everything Mike says is true, that he’s happy and that the words _he_ says are true. “He’s b—” better? Is he? “he’s changed,” Will settled on.

“ _Will_ ,” Mike sighs again, running a hand through his hair. Will feels his heart clench at the sight. “I know,” his voice is strained, and Will calls on all the Gods as he harnesses his acting skills from the 7th grade to pull a confused face – but it may come out more pained than he wanted. “ _I know_ ,” Mike clarifies, and Will feels like he’s going to die, or worse, cry.

“… Know what?” he tries, barely holding himself back from falling to his knees and praying. The taller boy just looks down at him and suddenly Will feels like all his secrets have been laid bare. Mike knows. He _knows_. He knows and this is the moment where he tells Will to fuck off and that he never wants to see him again. Will knows this is the end, he can feel it. However, Mike just smiles tiredly, hand falling from his hair, making the brown locks fall limply against his forehead. He doesn’t even embarrass Will any further by saying it out loud.

“You don’t want to be with him, not really,” is what Mike says in lieu of the truth they both know.

“He’s nice to me,” Will hears the words, it takes a moment for him to realise they’re coming out of his own mouth.

“You talking ‘bout me, sugar?” Suddenly there are arms on his shoulders, a hand in his hair and one over his heart, Will closes his eyes and counts to five, “all bad, I hope.” He counts to ten, then turns around.

“Hi T,” he says softly, obediently tilting his head up for a kiss when Troy leans forward.

“Hey hot stuff, we still on for tonight?” he asks, however, he turns to Mike before Will even has a chance to respond, “It’s footie night, all the lads are bringing their birds out for a meal afterwards at some fruity place off the high street. Celebrating the end of the season and all that shit.”

Mike nods, a strained smile on his face. “Sounds fun,” he says.

“Oh yeah, all that oestrogen, I can’t wait, mate.” The sarcasm is leaking from his words in droves. “Look, sugar, Manda will kill me if you miss this one. She and Taff spent the whole last meal tag-teaming me on how I never let you out the house, I swear to God if I have to listen to her rattle on for another evening—” he cuts himself off and smiles at Mike, charming and boyish, with a token twinkle as if they’re sharing a private joke, “you know how chicks are, man. Anyway, I’ll come get you at like 8? Wear the blue shirt, it’s nice.” He presses a kiss to Will’s cheek and nods in Mike’s direction as a call comes in on his watch.

“See ya, Wheeler,” he calls but he’s not looking back, probably doesn’t even hear Mike answer him, too engrossed in whatever business proposal had just come in, shady, no doubt.

As he’s walking off, Will sees him walk straight between Max and El, shouldering them apart and complaining obnoxiously that they spilt a bit of water on his jumper. Will places his face into his hands and pretends he can’t feel Mike’s disappointment.

“Troy’s a dick,” Max announces, a deep frown on her face as she and El reach the table. The brunette immediately slides into the space beside Mike, under his arm, the space that she knows belongs to her. She slides into her space and curls up next to him, silently nodding in agreement. Will’s quiet for maybe a beat longer than one should be when someone insults your boyfriend, but he had to take a breath to ensure he doesn’t accidentally say something to El he would come to regret; he doesn’t have to look over to catch the pointed look on Mike’s face.

“He’s nice to me,” he lies after the silence has, once again, stretched too long to be comfortable and briefly wonders if he’ll ever believe himself when he says that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bloop. I think this is the nicest I've ever written Mike, trying to reduce my bias against him lol  
> Anyway, all feedback is good feedback. Thanks sm for reading!!


	2. Jonathan Byers (+Steve Harrington)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan always knows best. Will knows that.

Jonathan had never liked Troy. In retrospect, Will supposes that should have been his first warning bell. He loves his brother more than anything in the world, his mum a close second. He looks up to him like a father and respects him in a way he couldn’t even imagine respecting anyone else. He has ever since he was younger, and Jonathan stepped between him and Lonnie – a drunk Lonnie, a feat which was magical in his little 6-year-old eyes. When Will remembers it now, he always pictures a sort of glowing halo around his 9-year-old brother.

He knows he can always count on Jonathan to cheer him up when he is down or to offer him sound, usually life-changing, advice when he is at a loss. In fact, his brother was essentially always the best bet, regardless of the situation.

So that’s why when Will is out on the cold suburban streets at 2am, his chest heaving, vision blurred and fingers frozen so hard they hurt, he turns up at Jonathan’s door. He’s too preoccupied with the burning in his chest to consider the possibility that Troy may have overreacted, too preoccupied with trying to garner comfort from his brother to consider just how much of his dirty laundry he’s about to air. Jonathan’s face falls and he’s so busy checking Will over for signs of harm that Steve is the one who has to usher the younger boy in.

Will’s shaking, he still can’t see past the film of tears lacing over his eyes and he feels immeasurably numb, due to the cold or the pain, he’s not sure. He doesn’t even realise he’s talking until Steve shushes him, placing a hot cup of hot chocolate wrapped in a dishcloth in Will’s hands. His throat closes up immediately and he tilts his head to look up at Steve, eyes wide. Will hadn’t even noticed him leave.

“Sorry,” he manages to whisper, then turns his eyes down to his hot chocolate, “I’m sorry.”

Steve winces, hurriedly taking his arm off Will’s shoulder, mouth opening wordlessly for a few moments as his brain works overtime trying to figure out what he did to make Will apologise, “I- I didn’t mean-”

That’s when Jonathan pushes off the wall and comes up to wrap his hand around Steve’s shoulder. He’s looking at Will like he knows. Knows what? Will isn’t sure, but whatever it is, Will is glad Jonathan knows, because he sure as hell doesn’t.

“Hey babe, why don’t you go to bed, I’ll be through in five,” he says lowly, calm in spite of the room’s growing tension, in a way only Jonathan can. Steve pauses a bit, looks between the two brothers and sighs before nodding, beginning to walk away. Jonathan catches him softly by the wrist, waiting for Steve to look down at him. “Hey,” he whispers, “I love you.” Steve rolls his eyes but his pout breaks into a smile. He turns, heading back into Jonathan’s space, and presses a kiss to his mouth. Will’s heart clenches at the domesticity. Steve then, surprisingly, walks over to Will and presses another to his head. He ruffles his hair, leans down and says ‘you better drink it all kiddo’ before heading off down the hallway where Will knows their bedroom is.

He turns off the corridor light, probably out of habit, and Will can’t help but flinch at the newly darkened space. Jonathan’s expression is unchanging. He steps over to sit on the arm of the chair beside the sofa Will is on, flicking the lamp on as he goes. When he gets to his perch he just sits, expression caught in a sort of half smile. Will is used to this, and usually he loves just sitting in silence with Jonathan, he finds comfort in his brother’s presence, but, right now, the silence is killing him.

“Go on then,” he says, gesturing to the drink. “You heard the boss.”

So, Will drinks. And Jonathan waits till he’s almost finished, till his shivers stop and his lips look less blue. Till his tears run dry and his eyes focus. Till Will starts to feel embarrassed about the whole situation.

God, what was he thinking running crying to his brother? He harshly wipes at the tear tracks on his cheeks. He feels like a kid again. He doesn’t feel 20 years old; he feels 15 and scared.

“There you are,” Jonathan says warmly, just as Will starts to feel human again.

“Sorry,” he says again, feebly wiping at his face some more.

“What for?”

“Bothering you.” Jonathan’s smile seems to get softer, and he slides down from his perch to sit next to will so he can pull him under his arm.

“Did I say you were bothering me?” No, he hadn’t, but Will knows he’s annoying when he’s like this. He’s been told. He knows Jonathan wouldn’t appreciate that sentiment though so he just shrugs.

“You could never bother me, and anyone who makes you feel like that, anyone who makes you feel like a bother or a hassle isn’t someone worth keeping around.” The words seem like normal Jonathan advice but the look he’s giving Will seems pointed. Will feels stripped back, like his brother is looking into his mind and seeing all his secrets.

“What if I’m the problem?” he asks quietly, trying to make the words seem like his own but knowing he’s failed.

“You’re not,” Jon replies like it’s a fact, no room for argument, “and if anyone makes you feel that way, they’re not worth keeping around,” he reiterates, “no matter what they say.”

“Okay,” Will says, cursing the fact that his voice warbles, then lurches over, wrapping his arms around his brother. Jonathan lets him because Jonathan is amazing, but it is also because Jonathan is amazing that he pulls back four minutes later to look Will in the eye.

“I need you to say it, buddy,” and Will could play dumb, pretend he hasn’t learned how to perfectly read Jonathan over the past 20 years, but he wouldn’t fool anyone in the room. He blinks twice before holding Jonathan’s gaze.

“If anyone makes me feel like I’m a hassle, a burden or a problem, then they’re not worth keeping around, no matter what they say,” Will says, and he spends the whole night trying to believe himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm forever undecided about whether I ship Stonothan or Harringrove more because the tropes I like for them are vastly different.
> 
> All feedback is good feedback!  
> Thanks for reading :)


	3. Richard Tozier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie can be surprisingly sage. Will wishes he'd go back to joking around.

Will figures he should probably be more surprised when Richie finds him sitting outside, behind the community centre, far removed from the main road. It was a spot you couldn’t stumble onto by accident, a spot Will liked to go to, to think, a spot he had claimed for himself that no-one else knew about, or so he thought.

“Shouldn’t you be headed home?” he asks, deciding to remain focused on the daisy chain he was building, rather than look up. He can tell it’s Richie from the god-awful shoes alone, he doesn’t need any more confirmation than that. None of the losers do.

“Me? Go home and leave you without eye candy?” Richie slaps a hand on his chest, like he’s offended, “William, what sort of a man do you take me for?” Suddenly, he’s sat by Will, so close that the other boy looks up just to make sure Richie sees him roll his eyes before he slides over an inch, so they aren’t essentially sitting on each other. “Although, you should already be home by now. Isn’t that the whole point of leaving early?” Will trains his gaze back on the flowers in his hands. He knows he can’t go home just yet, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to Richie in a way that won’t seem… worrying.

“I was enjoying the fresh air. Lost track of time, I guess,” is what he says, finally, after a few too many moments of silence have ticked by. The pair fall quiet again, and Will knows Richie is looking at him with that weird I-can-see-what-you’re-thinking look he often gets. It’s annoying, Will wishes he would stop.

“I’ll enjoy it with you then, keep away all the big baddies that may wanna prey on your sweet innocence.” He says it like he’s made an earth-stopping decision, like he’s made a huge sacrifice for the greater good and then he growls for… extra measure, Will supposes. Will snorts, rolling his eyes, more amiably this time.

“My hero,” he whispers, before comfortably falling silent, Richie takes that as a cue to relay the events of his day. Which was mostly: planning a convoluted prank on Mike, which Will was there for: executing said prank, which Will was there for and then getting chastised by Stan for catching him in the crosshairs, which Will was also there for as Stan made sure to gather everybody so they could watch. And while it should be nice to sit together and pretend everything is normal, Will knows the real reason Richie followed him out, and he knows it’s bound to come to a head at some point. He knows it won’t leave either of their minds till it does.

He’s so distracted by his wandering thoughts that he doesn’t realise Richie has stopped talking, for seemingly a while now. Smiling to ease the awkwardness, Will looks up at him, handing over the crown of daisies. It hovers between them and for a frightening, heart-wrenching moment, Will is sure Richie isn’t going to take it. But he does, albeit reluctantly, and it seems it’s now his turn to look away

“Look,” he starts seriously, and fuck, Will knew this was coming but he wasn’t ready for it today, not right now. “I know I make you feel uncomfortable—” That took him by surprise. He bends his head in confusion, trying to catch Richie’s eyes but the other boy seems determined not to look at him.

“That’s not true,” Will argues.

“Really? Cause it hasn’t been the same ever since Stan’s party…”

And… well, that is true. It’s true that Will’s skin seems to set alight whenever Richie is nearby. It’s true that his throat closes up and he can hardly breathe, no less hold a ‘normal’ conversation with the lad.

“I just,” Will cuts himself off, searching for the right words, “I liked you a lot back then and when we—when you kissed me I thought you might like me back and then I saw you with Stan and now obviously…” He gestured vaguely to the promise ring hanging around Richie’s neck.

Richie who’s looking at him so sadly and it’s so unlike him that Will wants to scream. He wasn’t asking for pity and it’s fucked up that everyone seems to just  _ know _ how sad he is.

Then Richie leans over and kisses him. Softly, a barely-there, chaste sort of press of the lips that still somehow manages to feel sad – to feel like an ending, when kisses are supposed to be a beginning. He smiles afterwards, but it doesn’t extend further than his lips. In fact, the sadness clouding his eyes is so strong that Will has to look away, again. He feels like such a fucking coward.

“There’s nothing there, Will.” The words are said kindly, but that cushion isn’t enough to stop the impact from breaking him. Will wishes he’d go back to joking and calling him names.

“I know,” he says back hoarsely, because he did.

“You didn’t want to be with me anyway, not really,” he adds, and Will’s throat suddenly feels so so dry.  _ Has he always been this fucking transparent? _ A couple more moments pass, then Richie slides off the wall, seemingly complacent with the lack of response Will is giving him, and shoves his hands into his pockets. He kicks at a rock then says, almost hesitantly,

“You know, if that’s the night you got with Troy, you really have to wonder if you did it because you like him or because you were… sad. Cause if you were vulnerable then and he’s keeping you in that headspace…” Richie trails off but they both know what he was implying. “See you later, lil Bill.”

Will sits on the wall alone and thinks that the saddest part is, he’s sure Richie’s gonna head straight to Stan and tell him all about Will’s pathetic crush and how he kissed him to- he’s not sure, ease the pain? But on his end, even  _ thinking _ of telling Troy about what just happened makes Will’s blood turn to ice.

He pulls his knees up into his chest and hugs them, choosing to wait until his tears have stopped threatening to fall or until it gets too dark to see them before heading back home.


	4. Billy Hargrove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems to Will that Billy is more than just a walking snarl.

Will is walking down the streets of Chicago and he feels weightless. The night air is cool, caressing his skin as he floats through existence and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights resemble a beckoning whisper, calling him forwards.

Will is walking down the streets of Chicago when he spots someone who he is sure is Billy Hargrove. He hesitates then, in the middle of the pavement, because; a - he really isn’t in the mood for confrontation, he’s only out here to give Troy time to clear his head so he won’t be so angry by the time Will gets back to the hotel; b- he’s starting to lose his way, sure he probably hasn’t walked very far but he’s still new to the area and it’s getting pretty late, it wouldn’t do for him to be completely lost by the time it got dark; but most importantly, c - Hargrove looked smaller than Will had ever seen him, being pressed against the wall, glaring up defiantly at some guy in front of him. it was giving Will déjà vu.

And it’s late, so Will knows he should really be heading back but he doesn’t think he’s given Troy enough time to cool off and he also doesn’t want to read on the news tomorrow that a young man matching Billy’s description died or something. Then he’d feel even worse. So, he hangs about a bit, he keeps walking, just, a bit slower than he previously was.

He sees Hargrove push the guy off of him and step away from the wall, a purple bruise appearing on his cheek as he moves into the light. Then Hargrove snarks something Will can’t hear at the guy, a very familiar mean expression on his face, and grabs a jacket from the floor, turning away and shoving it on as the guy mutters something back and grabs him again. Hargrove pulls away so violently that Wil briefly worries he’ll break something, the guy seems to give up then, he just waves a hand nonchalantly at Hargrove’s back, before heading back into the bar they were stood outside.

Billy wipes furiously at his face as he turns to leave but Wil doesn’t even have a chance to contemplate whether the older boy was wiping away tears or not because suddenly icy blue eyes meet his and he just needs a way out, right now.

“The fuck you gawking at, Byers?” he says, voice holding less bite than it did 6 years ago, but in his eyes was the same untempered fury he remembers being directed at… basically everyone who crossed Billy’s path.

“Uh, I-“

“Actually, the fuck you doing in ‘cago at all? Run away from home? That screw up dad of yours come back and forced y’all to scram?” Will tilts his head. He recognises the tell-tale signs of someone fishing for a fight, and knows with experience that the best thing to do is not give in. Will gazes at his bruise.

“Does it hurt?” Billy scoffs

“I can take a hit kid, I ain’t like your pussy brother,” Will flashes back to that time Jonathan and Steve got into a fist fight over Nancy outside the cinema. He knows Jonathan can take a hit.

“Do you wanna come back to my hotel?” Billy raises an eyebrow at him, an amused expression on his face and Will flushes immediately, shaking his head and stuttering out, “n-no, not like that! I just—you’re bleeding, we probably have a first aid kit. I wasn’t asking for—it wasn’t a propo—” Will trails off when he realises Billy is smirking, more amusement lighting up his eyes. He rolls his in return, feeling embarrassed and stupid but also slightly amused; less tense.

“we?” Is all Billy asks and Will shrugs, looking down at the ground.

“My boyfriend, we’re here for his birthday,” Billy leans back against the wall, says ‘ah’ and nothing else for a long minute. Then his gaze obviously zeroes in on the darkening bruise on Wil’s wrist where he’s holding his jacket lapels. Will crosses his arms.

“It seems like it’s best I don’t. for your sake.” He says finally and Will just nods after another long minute. He’s right. Troy probably wouldn’t like him bringing a strange older man back to their hotel – bleeding or not. “Plus, I don’t live too far away, I’ll be fine.

Billy raises his eyebrow again when Will just fucking stands there like a lost puppy instead of heading back to his precious boyfriend.

“I….ve got a sofa bed, if you wanted to crash?”

And Will genuinely considers it, he almost takes Billy up on that offer until he imagines how angry Troy would be tomorrow when Will finally returned, because he had to return. He’s not sure he’d be able to handle Troy accusing him of sleeping with somebody else. Will kicks at the floor and feels a pleased tingle as he sees a scuff appear on the toe of the shoes Troy had gotten him last Christmas.

“I probably shouldn’t’”

“that what I thought,” billy says, pushing off the wall and crossing his arms at the cold, “look kid, you gotta know your self-worth. I’m a piece of shit and even I knew I was too good to be shoved about by that dick,” he gestured to the club across the way, “you seem like a good kid and this boyfriend of yours… seems like he’s not.”

_He’s nice to me_ , plays on Will’s lips for a brief moment. But he doesn’t say anything.

Billy shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets,

“Think about it, kid,”

Will nods, a jerky stilted movement before he turns on his feet and begins to head back to the hotel.

Will is walking down the streets of Chicago and feels like he’s wading through quicksand, each drag of his feet is more difficult that the last and for a brief second he doesn’t think he will make it back.

_Think about it, kid._ Billy said.

Will does


	5. Dustin Henderson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dustin is that lone stone you grab on to right as you’re about to fall off the edge of the waterfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me,, forgetting about posting the 2 last chapters of this fic,,, no way is that me,, ur wrong

_Think about it, kid,_ Billy had said.

Will really does.

However, he makes the mistake of thinking about it out loud, on the phone with El, just as Troy is getting home from work. Troy doesn’t interrupt him, make any noise or give anything away, he just sits in the living room silently. So, when Will hangs up, walks in and sees him sitting on the sofa, he can’t be sure just how much the other boy has heard, but the stony look on his face says it all: he has heard enough to get the picture.

And just like that Will is thrown out of his comfort zone, put on the spot because even though he and El had just come to the conclusion that he’s leaving, that he’ll be free, he isn’t ready to fight for that now. He would much prefer to do it on his own terms, with time to mentally prepare, with _people_ in his corner. But he doesn’t have that right now, no, right now, he is unprepared, freaked out and _alone_ , desperately wishing he was anywhere else but frozen in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, scared shitless in the house that was supposed to be his safe haven.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Troy asks, but it doesn’t much sound like a question. He’s using the tone that Will more often than not doesn’t respond to, because usually when Troy uses that tone, there is no correct answer

“I’m breaking up with you,” Will whispers back. It all come out in one heavy breath and a massive part of Will hopes that Troy didn’t hear him, but from the darkening of his expression, it’s obvious that he did.

“No, you’re not,”

“Troy, I—” Will startles, cutting himself off mid-sentence because Troy suddenly lurches up unto his feet, pushing over their coffee table in his anger and crossing 8 feet in 3 strides until the only thing separating he and Will is a handful of snap peas, lukewarm tea and shards of ceramic from the tray Will hadn’t even realised he’d dropped.

“Say it again.” Up until Will had bumped into Billy – because he calls Hargrove Billy now – last week he wouldn’t have dared. But thinking back at how Billy had sneered at that guy who was much bigger than him, how he’d said to know your worth, ignites something in Will and for a moment he thinks of himself and his future and how he’s not happy and how Troy is _not_ nice to him.

He thinks that if anyone makes him feel like he’s a hassle, a burden or a problem, then they’re not worth keeping around, no matter what they say, and his mouth opens almost unconsciously.

“I’m breaking up with you.” He repeats, louder and slower, and Troy’s fists clench but Will doesn’t flinch.

He ends up at Dustin’s, not quite knowing where else he could go in this state, especially so late at night, except for maybe the hospital and he isn’t going to do that. Jonathan and Steve moved up to Vancouver last year, but Will would be willing to make the drive if not for the fact that they’re on their honeymoon, even though they remain adamant that it isn’t a honeymoon as they aren’t married yet.

Will knows calling his brother would only serve to worry him and ruin what is meant to be a relaxing trip and while he is now in the habit of thinking of himself, he’s not going to be that selfish. He feels weirdly alone, thought he knows that maybe it’s rude of him to feel that way when all of his friends are still here, less than 30 minutes out each, even though Jonathan isn’t.

Dustin was easy going and he never asked too many questions, he was also usually up astonishingly late for such a morning person; this was the right decision to make. Will went over his reasonings again and again, stood outside of the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to knock. What if he was wrong? What if Dustin didn’t understand? What if he got mad? Maybe he should just go back home, apologise to Troy and go from there. Prepare himself for the rest of his abysmal life.

The front door opening takes Will by surprise, he almost jumps out of his skin.

“Will?” It’s Max, shit, it must be Friday, Will did not realise it’s Friday; date night. He is definitely intruding. Max’s eyes are half closed and she’s wearing sleep rumpled pyjamas. Will wants to disappear.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot what day it was, I’ll come back—”

“Hey, don’t be ridiculous,” she sounds tired, rubbing her eyes with her pyjama paws. Will feels so bad. “Come in, I’ll go get Dustin up for you,”

“He’s sleeping!? No, Max, don’t worry about it, I’ll—”

“Will, please shut up and get inside, right the fuck now,” Will heaves a worried sigh, nibbling nervously on his lower lip but doing as she asks. The house is just as nice as he remembers, not massive, not super elegant but homey, warm. Will feels better just from being here.

“How did you even know I was out there?” he asks once Max has seated him on the sofa but for some reason chosen to stay stood herself, perched against the hallway wall.  
  
“Outdoor lights came on, you dumbass,” she mutters fondly through a yawn as Dustin comes up behind her whispering a small greeting and kissing her cheek. She smiles, patting his in response as she turns to head back to bed, waving goodbye to Will who still feels bad for waking her.

“Ah wait, could you take Lucas some water?” Dustin asks her and she rolls her eyes, mimicking him in an accent that isn’t even close as she does it. Will always enjoys watching them interact with each other, they obviously make each other happy. It warms his heart seeing happy couples.

Max disappears down the hallway and once she’s gone Dustin zeroes in on him. More lucid than his girlfriend, he immediately sees Will’s sudden appearance for what it is – a cry for help.

“Dude what the fuck happened to you?” he asks. Will wants to shrug, lie and pass it off like it’s not a big deal but he’s trying to get out of the habit of lying to the people he loves for their benefit, they never appreciate it like he hopes they will.

“I broke up with Troy,” he responds and Dustin’s answering inhale of breath is so loud that Dart comes rushing in, anxiously pulling at his dad’s socks before running over and jumping into Will’s lap. Will almost cries at the sudden onslaught of love from the puppy. He welcomes it in strives, carding his fingers through the soft white fur. He looks back up nervously when Dustin doesn’t say anything immediately, but he’s smiling and something deep in Will’s gut uncoils.

“I’m really happy for you,” he says gently, truthfully and Will smiles back. He’s happy for himself too.

“Oh, and I think I’ve fucked up my wrist,”

“What happened?”

“I fell,” It’s not a lie, he did fall. Will thinks he deserves this one half-truth, “does it matter anyway?”

“You know it does, Will,” Dustin says, because he’s one of those terrible friends who tells you the truth even if he knows it’s not what you want to hear. However, he lets the issue drop because he is one of those amazing friends who knows there is a time and place for certain things. He checks Will over in silence and then bandages him up in more silence, but it doesn’t feel overbearing or mean or angry, so Will doesn’t try to fil it with anything. “You know you can sleep here tonight right, I’ll make the spare room up,” Wii didn’t know that, he’s grateful for the clarity.

He’s headed off to his room for the night, already wondering the best way to recount this night’s events to Jonathan, because while he knows he has to tell him, it doesn’t make it any easier, when Dustin stops him by gently grabbing his shoulder.

“Hey, Will, I mean it, man. I’m _really_ happy for you. Troy is a douchebag. I know people can change, but he didn’t, or he got worse, anyway, you deserve better.” Will nods frantically in lieu of a response, pulling his friend in for a hug to stave off the tears and trying hard not to chastise himself for essentially throwing away the past five years of his life,

“Thanks, Dustin. I’m happy too,” he says, and he means it


	6. Lucas Sinclair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a wild ride. I'm very relieved I've finished this bc it has been taunting me in my documents folder for months but I could not bring my brain to edit it. hence I forwent editing and am just slapping this bad boy on here. Future liv can pay the price.
> 
> If you're reading this, thanks a million, I had a ball writing it and I hope u enjoyed.

“You know pining is bad for the soul, right?”

Will’s gaze is torn up from the sketch on his lap to meet Lucas’ all too knowing expression. For a moment, a refusal plays on his lips, he wants to deny deny deny because even though he’s sure the other lad knows, it’s something completely different to admit it out loud. At the same time, he can feel heat spreading across his cheeks and knows anything he says in disagreement would just be a waste of breath. He’s not fooling Lucas anytime soon.

“I know,” Will sighs after a few moments of thought, looking back down at his sketch, “shit,” he mutters, lifting his pencil off the page from where he’d been pressing so hard it snapped, changing Mike’s left leg to a smudge of charcoal. He rubs unhelpfully at the smudge before giving up and shuffling over on the bench, an invitation for Lucas to sit. He does.

For a couple of minutes, because Lucas is an angel sent from heaven, the pair sit there in a vague silence that’s only broken by the scratch of Will’s pen against the page and Lucas’ occasional jeering at his boyfriend’s subpar football skills. It’s nice; and it’s eye-opening. Will hadn’t realised just how little he’d seen his friends when he and Troy were together but now that he is allowed to see them as often as he wants, he wonders how he was dealing with anything less – not very well, he thinks, not very well at all.

“You know,” Lucas says, turning away from the pitch now it seemed they were more fucking around with the ball than playing a serious game and Will steels himself for what he knows is going to be a difficult conversation, “it’s been like ten years, and I still for the life of me, can’t work out which one.” He stops talking, but Will can’t help but feel like his sentence was unfinished.

He manages to drag his eyes away from where Mike and Richie were fake fighting to see Lucas staring at him with that annoying look he gets when he’s sure he’s correct. Why are all his friend’s psychic? “Which one what?” He asks warily, pulling his feet in and crossing them so he could shuffle closer.

“Which one you’re always ogling. Sometimes I think it’s Mike but other times I’m sure you’d give up your life and soul for Richie.”

Will looks down and stabs the page once more but this time the newly sharpened led breaks through the sheet instead of snapping. He stares down at his ruined sketch, brain flying through different avenues of escape from Lucas’ invasive line of questioning.

Instead of enacting any of that, Will closes his sketch book and places it on the wall beside them, looking up to meet Lucas’ eyes. He vowed to be more open and honest with his friends, and that was what he was going to do. That doesn’t make it any easier to order his thoughts, however. Will splutters incoherently for a few seconds before sighing out,

“Mike’s straight,”

Lucas’ easy, open look finally falls into a frown at that.

“You know they’re different people, right, they may be twins but you can’t just replace—”

Will puts two and two together midsentence, his words and Lucas’ reaction.

“No, no that’s not what I meant, I just—” he has to take a breath to centre himself. “Like… It’s Mike, it’s always been Mike. Always. But, at the same time, it couldn’t ever be. He was always straight or taken or… just not into me and that’s fine... And it could have been Richie, it _would_ have been Richie, but Richie has Stan and it’s the same but it’s so so different. Now it just, seems like it’s never gonna be anyone,”

Will curls his knees up and hugs them, gaze being drawn back to the tussling boys. “I think the not knowing is the worst part, I’ll never know if it could have worked out.”

“Maybe you’re just too hung up on people you can’t have to realise there are other people waiting on you,” Will raises an imploring eyebrow, wondering if there was something Lucas wanted to tell him. He eyes up Dustin and Max, who had now joined in on the fake fight, wondering if they needed to be here for this conversation. Lucas must have caught his look because he laughed, leaning in conspiratorially. “and I don’t mean me… or do I?”

“Lucas.”

“Open your eyes Will, Danny has fancied you for the better half of the year, Suzie tried to sleep with you so hard at Max’s birthday party and I know for a fact Joslyn went out and bought a Maxi push-up bra because she heard you were going to go to end of year dance and thought it might catch your eye – thank max for than little bit of tmi.” He pauses to giggle at what Will is sure is a look of shocked horror on his own face. There was no way… he would have noticed…. He would have! “There are so many people out there Will. I’m not saying you should go for someone just because they like you, but I am saying you’re an attractive guy and you’d be spoilt for choice if only you didn’t go for people you _knew_ you had no chance with.”

Will flushes then, his skin lighting up in righteous indignation, taking offense at the implication that he was doing this to himself.

“I’m not trying to be rude,” Lucas continues, either unaware or unbothered by Will’s seething, “but you need to hear this Will. You go for straight guys or taken guys so when they reject you, it’s not your fault. You feel safe because you already know the answer and you have control of it. Go for someone you can get, someone who’s available, and you will get them, Will, look at you. You’re a whole damn buffet. There’s no better time than the present to take charge.”

Will doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to stop himself from feeling personally attacked when Lucas surely only wanted to help.

“Hey, look at me, I wasted a year being jealous and confused over Dustin and Max when we could have been happy all along.”

Will scoffs. “Not everything works out that easy Lucas, you guys were lucky,”

“uh-huh, we’re all lucky. Me, Max and Dustin, Steve and Jon, Mike and El, Robyn and Nancy. It’s all luck?” Will’s jaw clicks shut. “I’m not the resident expert of relationships and if you want advice on ‘getting the guy’ you may want to ask Robyn but first you have to take the first step in realising your worth, cause it’s a lot,”

There’s quiet once more, but it’s not a tense fragile thing, it’s nice and warm and all-encompassing as Will feels the fog he’s been wading through for the past few years clear up, ever so slightly.

“So…” he says softly, “do you… uhh… do you wanna go clubbing tomorrow night?”

Lucas laughs so hard he nearly falls of the wall but once he’s done laughing he sits back up and he nods. Will smiles.


End file.
